Watching You Die
by OutCold
Summary: Alternate Kill Ari, because yes, I seem to have an obsession with that episode. Not much I can say, but read the teaser, at least, it's short, and you'll know immediately if you want to read on. COMPLETE.
1. Guilt

_Disclaimer: Don't own it. Don't sue me._

_Spoilers: Sort of for Kill Ari._

* * *

She had been surprised, to say the least, when Gibbs asked her to back him up. Surprised that he could trust her, after all, she worked for Mossad, and Mossad was backing Ari. And screw impartiality, she was backing Ari too. She found it impossible to believe that her brother had done everything that they had claimed. Ari who wanted to help people, Ari who wanted to make a difference. Ari and Tali, her better angels. This was all one massive mess. Ari was a little dark, maybe. Hurt, haunted . . . but the job did that to a person. Ziva had experienced her share of pain. Memories that would never leave her, no matter how much she might want it. And Ari had been at it for longer, been through more. But it always seemed to be Ari who saved her. Always. He was her protector. Since childhood, it had always been that way. Even when she could protect herself, and especially when she couldn't. She owed him her life more times than she could count, and her sanity a few times more. Her perfect big brother, who all her friends had envied. But he had looked out for them too, because what was important to Ziva was important to him.

She remembered with perfect clarity the day Tali died. The day she might have died too. She and her little sister were shopping, taking the rare opportunity just to be two young girls. Ari had laughed at their enthusiasm, and hung back somewhat, but they had both known he was keeping an eye, and it made them feel, well, safe. Tali, in her eagerness, had ran into a shop and Ziva, amused, had taken off on her heels. The force of the blast blew her backwards, and she was knocked out. She had woken to Ari pulling rubble off of her. He seemed bruised, he'd probably been thrown back too, but the real pain was in his eyes. She had choked out the question – just Tali's name, she couldn't say any more, and Ari had shook his head slowly. Looking back, it was probably the last time she saw him cry.

She watched the two men verbally sparring down in the basement; saw what had become of her older brother. He may have just been pretending, or something, but the callous cruelty still shocked her. Surely this wasn't Ari.

"I've killed enough men in my life. It's gonna be just sweet watching you die."

"Ari, please don't."

Her voice, though barely audible, shocked herself. This was a decision she knew she would have to make, and she knew what to do. She just didn't want him to die.

"I'm sorry to spoil your fun."

The gunshot sounded louder than any explosion. Reluctant tears welled in her eyes as she descended the stairs. A few rolled down her cheeks, but she wiped them away angrily. She looked at the body for a while, and then turned to the other person in the room, feeling excruciatingly guilty. He walked up to her and she dropped her head onto his chest. The two stood in silence. Finally, he said,

"It's done, Ziva."

She'd always loved how her name sounded in her brother's British accent.

* * *

_Please don't kill me._


	2. Weakness

_Disclaimer: I did some origami the other night._

_A/N: So I've finally UDed this. It isn't my top priority at the moment, but I am going to try to every now and then. The chapters will be short, for now. That might change at some point._

* * *

"We have to go."  
Ziva nodded, and cast one last regretful glance at Gibbs, a man who she'd met briefly, but who she knew immediately didn't deserve to die. But that was the job. Sometimes good people die to stop hundreds or even thousands of innocent people from dying. If that was what Ari had to do to be trusted by Al Qaeda, well, she'd have done the same. She did do the same. Standing and watching Gibbs die . . . it was no better than pulling the trigger. She followed Ari up the stairs. They walked around the corner to his motorcycle, and he threw her the spare helmet. She pulled it on, glad for the chance to hide the moisture that was once again welling in her eyes. She climbed on behind Ari, and blinked back tears. _Get a hold of yourself,_ she heard her father say in her head. _This is one of the most important things you've ever done, and some American agent is distracting you? People die, Ziva, you know that. _ So she put Gibbs out of her head. The day wasn't yet over, she had work to do still. She began to brush up on her Arabic feverishly in her head. Although the terrorists knew she was Israeli, like Ari, she didn't want to miss a single word they said.

-----

Caitlin had to die so Gibbs would have to die. Gibbs had to die because Caitlin died. Gibbs had to die because he was just like Eli David. Caitlin had to die because Ari was growing fond of her. Caitlin was becoming a weakness, and so she had to be eliminated. That one thing his father had been right about. Weakness wasn't acceptable. Especially weakness for a woman who worked for the man you had decided to kill. So if her death had assisted his, all the better. He had his reservations about taking Ziva to the Al Qaeda cell, but he knew she would be helpful, if he managed to hide his motives from her. When the attacks succeeded, he wasn't sure what to do. He liked to think he could leave his sister alive. He would find a way. She was the one weakness he couldn't lose. He pulled into the garage of a suburban house, greeted by Muti, his second in command, who was acting as the cell's leader in Ziva's presence.

-----

She gave the helmet to Ari, and turned to the man in the room, who extended his hand with a friendly smile.

"You must be Haswari's sister, Ziva?"

She reached and shook his outstretched hand.

"Izzayik? Mas-muk?"

"As-mii Muti. MarHab, Ziva."

"Shukran."

"Ziva," cut in Ari smoothly, "would you mind . . .?"

She gestured for him to go, and he nodded his thanks.

-----

Ari and Muti entered a room with five other men. Once out of Ziva's sight, he instantly assumed the position of leader.

"Is everything on schedule?"

"No. There's been a . . . problem."

"What?" he asked tiredly.

One of the other men began to talk.

"It is harder to adapt than I thought. I need more –"

"How much time?"

"Twenty-four hours."

Ari seemed to consider it, then sighed, but silently agreed. Muti turned to him.

"And your sister?"

"What about her?" he snapped, instantly wary.

"Do we have to keep up this charade for her? Wouldn't it be easier to . . . lock her up?"

"You mean to kill her?"

"Well, not necessarily, but to restrain her . . ."

The threat to Ziva, accompanied by Muti's subconscious leer as he talked of her, was too much for Ari. He raised his gun. Muti threw his hands upwards.

"Ari, sir, it was only, I didn't –"

Ari pulled the trigger, and turned calmly to address the men.

"That has just made things significantly more difficult for me, and at the very least should serve as a warning to keep away from Ziva."

The rest of the group stared on in shock. Ari gave the body one last disparaging look, before saying,

"I'm going to bed."

* * *

_Ari is still very much evil, and I wanted to show that while also showing how much he cares for Ziva. Did I succeed? Please review._

_Sorry if the Arabic is crap. Basically it's meant to be._

"_How are you? What's your name?"_

"_My name's Muti. Welcome, Ziva."_

"_Thank you."_


	3. Alike

_Disclaimer: Really? You're giving me NCIS? Fantastic._

_A/N: Some very slight Jibbs in this chapter. Focusing on everyone at NCIS for a bit._

* * *

Gibbs was never late. It was just a fact. Gibbs was _never_ late. Occasionally he was out getting coffee, but he was never late. Gibbs just wasn't late. He didn't do late. Tony stared at Gibbs' desk. He was late.

"Something's wrong."

"He could just be late, Tony," said McGee, sounding unconvinced of his own words.

"An hour late? Gibbs? While we're hunting Ari? Gear up, McGee. We're going to the boss-man's house."

-----

Tony nudged the door gently with his foot. It fell open.

"Is that unu-"

He shook his head, cutting off McGee.

"He always leaves it unlocked."

Silently, guns in their hands, the two men moved slowly through Gibbs' house.

"Boss?" called Tony tentatively.

No reply. They continued toward the door to the basement, knowing he was most likely to be there, if he were in the house at all. Tony softly pushed open the door, and began to creep down the stairs. McGee saw Tony's reaction before anything else. The agent stumbled, as though his knees had given out under him, and grasped onto the banister. His gun clattered to the ground and a dry, choked sob came from his throat. Terrified, McGee followed his gaze. His boss, his mentor, Gibbs, lying in a pool of his own blood, bright blue eyes staring up coldly, lifelessly, a neat hole through his forehead. His boss, his mentor, Gibbs, dead. And though they say your life flashes before your eyes at your own death, it was Gibbs' life, at least, all they had seen of it, that was forced upon both men as they stared at his. The countless head-slaps and gruff words, the rare displays of emotion, of pride, every smirk, every glare, every moment of amusement, where his eyes sparkled and smiled even as he yelled or reprimanded them. It was five minutes before either could move, and then it was Tony, making his way down the last of the stairs to kneel at the side of the man he had always considered a father, the tears gathering in his eyes, but refusing to fall.

"No," he whispered. "No, no, not Gibbs. Gibbs doesn't, Gibbs can't . . ."

McGee had to strain to hear the words, even in the oppressive silence. But the words didn't matter; the pure pain was all he really heard. He found himself next to Tony, staring at Gibbs, knowing he would do anything, anything it took, for that hole to melt away like a bad dream fades into the depths of memory when bathed in cold morning light. For Gibbs to reach up and head-slap them both, telling them to get back to work and stop staring.

"Anything but," he heard himself whisper, "anything but this, boss, I'll do anything."

Tony reached out to lay his hand on the dead man's, but quickly withdrew after one touch. He didn't want to feel the unnaturally cold flesh, as if it would bring a sort of formality to this nightmare. He didn't want to have this confirmation, as though as long as he kept his distance he could retain the hope that he would be woken up at his desk by a gruff yell, and curse the fact that Ari had now also invaded his dreams. He didn't want confirmation, and he had to drag his next words out of his mouth, for they were just that.

"Let's call Ducky."

McGee nodded. Neither man reached for their phone. Tony shook himself. He may not want to call a pathologist for his boss, but neither would he leave him like this.

"Ducky."

"Anthony? My dear boy, what's wrong?"

"Ducky, I'm . . . it's Gibbs."

Ducky was silent, the usually astute ME trying to work out the implication behind those words, not quite believing that . . . oh God . . .

"Oh. Oh, no. His house?"

He heard Tony swallow, and knew that the boy had just gestured something.

"Aloud, Anthony."

"Yeah. Yeah, his house."

"I'll be right there."

-----

Director Jennifer Shepard eyed a particularly appealing bottle of bourbon. As she poured a glass and raised it to her lips, she suddenly imagined Gibbs there with her.

_Gibbs raised an eyebrow, half amused, half disdainful._

"_I thought I told you we drank when the day was over."_

"Piss off, Jethro. As if you'd never be tempted."

"_That's why I don't bring bourbon to work with me, Jen."_

"Screw you."

Jenny considered that she was probably insane, talking to a Gibbs-hallucination.

"_Not very nice. I'm dead, you know."_

"Then I'm not in much danger of hurting your feelings."

"_So how __**do **__you know Ziva David?" he asked, both eyebrows raised now._

"In death as in life. Abrupt. Worked with her on a joint mission," she replied, taking a gulp of bourbon.

_Gibbs winced._

"_It's a good drink, Jen. If you're aiming for blindly drunk, go for vodka and wait to savour the bourbon."_

"Seriously, that's the most important thing right now?" she questioned sarcastically. "I made a mistake on Ziva. I thought I could trust her."

"_And I trusted her because you did. It's your fault, __**Director**__," he accused, face suddenly becoming an image of blame._

She sighed and took another drink. Would Jethro really blame here? Why not? Maybe she was flattering herself that he would place his life in someone's hands because she vouched for them, but what other reason was there for him to trust Ziva?

"I missed you, Jethro. I miss you," she whispered to the empty room.

-----

"When I find them, I'm going to put bullets in the centre of their foreheads. First her, then him. Just so that, if she is anything to him, he watches her die."

Ducky looked at Tony with sympathy. The younger man's voice was not full of rage or passion, just cold certainty and hate. He shook his head.

"You are so very much like Jethro."

"I'll need to be. I shoulda backed him up, Ducky, should of been there," his head jerked slightly forward.

_Gibbs walked out in front of Tony, hand still descending form the slap._

"_Get off your ass and quit moping, DiNozzo. That bastard's still out there, save your guilt for later."_

"Yes, boss," he muttered softly. "Sorry, Ducky, got to go. Gibbs would kill me if I weren't working to get this guy."

Ducky watched him all but run out. He sighed.

"So very much like Jethro."

* * *

_Pretty please?_


	4. Alone

_Disclaimer: Don't own._

_A/N: I don't really like this one, but I needed to UD. Sorry it took so long._

_A/N2: This one is for . . .  
VousDevezChanter:For encouragement when I needed it.  
dizzy – in – the – izzy: For the attack idea. Thanks SO much.  
Tiva4evaxxx: Because she's going away soon and I'm really going to miss her.  
FadeIntoTheBackground: Get better soon. Enjoy clashing with your uniform. I'm glad you're OK.  
They're all amazing. Go check them out._

* * *

Ari stared at the phone with satisfaction, safe in the knowledge that it wouldn't work. He continued on his way up to Ziva's room. He rapped the door with his knuckles. She called out in Arabic, saying 'come in'. When he opened the door she was lying back on her bed, looking perfectly relaxed, head resting on her hands, one of her hands behind the pillow. Ari knew the hand lay on a knife. As he entered, she brought it out.

"They took my phone and all my guns."

He smirked.

"How many of your knives?"

"Three."

He laughed.

"So you still have two?"

Ziva nodded with a slightly evil smile. She swung up off the bed.

"This is a very nice house."

"It belongs to a rather well off sympathiser."

"Did they tell you the plan?"

Ari gave a pained grimace.

"Yes. Luckily, because the scientists need twenty-four hours, we have a little time. It's scheduled for the day after tomorrow."

"Ari?" asked Ziva, a dangerous tone creeping into her voice. "What is it?"

"A weaponised virus. To be sent out in envelopes."

"Just to . . . anyone?" she asked, her face twisting into an expression of horror. "That's crazy."

"What do you expect, Ziva?" he said, with a pitying smile and a sarcastic chuckle. "Although, I do think they have made a point of targeting government agents where possible."

"Is it anthrax?"

"It's new. Anthrax is a component, I think."

"We need to call the Director."

"We're going to have to see if we can get on the landline here. There are only two handsets."

"In a house this size?"

"We took out four."

Ziva ran her hand through her hair and sighed.

"We have to find a way, Ari." _For Gibbs. _

He closed his eyes. "Yes, we do."

Looking casual, they wandered down the corridor together, making meaningless small talk until they eventually reached an office. Glancing quickly about, Ari opened the door for Ziva, who slipped in quickly, then shut it and continued to walk along the corridor to the top of a flight of stairs. He leant on the banister, and looked down, hoping no one would come to check on them. Unfortunately, after about two minutes, a young man named Haytham came up.

"Sir?"

Ari nodded, safe in the knowledge that the office was soundproofed and Ziva couldn't hear.

"I've been asked to enquire if you'll be helping tonight?"

He could see how nervous Haytham was to ask this question, and could only guess that they'd drawn straws or something.

"I'll be down soon."

"And," Haytham was really scared about this one, "your sister? We're just wondering if she'd be interested," he added hastily.

"I'm sure she would be, but Ziva's asleep, and I don't want her disturbed."

"Yes, sir."

Haytham retreated, and Ziva emerged slightly after.

"The line does not work."

Ari lay his head in his hand.

"Right," he sighed. "You need to get to your room, you're asleep."

"Am I?"

"Would you rather be dead?"

-----

Ziva woke early as usual. Her waking thoughts were of Gibbs. Her nightmares had been too. What happened with him just couldn't sit right with her, no matter how necessary it was. She'd felt an instant bond with the man – possibly something to do with his lost family, or maybe she'd just liked him because he was a good man. Most of all though, he had trusted her, with no good reason to, and put his life in her hands. And she had stood there and watched as he died, even with full knowledge of what was about to happen. She couldn't claim ignorance or slow reactions. She knew Ari was about to kill Gibbs, but she had stood and let it happen, when Gibbs had trusted her. Trusted her. And Jenny had trusted her. The thought that she had ruined such a precious friendship, one she had worked so hard to forge and preserve, one that she held so dear to her, to ruin _that_ hurt on a whole new level. Ziva didn't believe what had happened was right. But right didn't really factor into it.

She threw on trousers and a top, and, as an afterthought, ran a brush through her hair. Her bare feet padding against the floors, she made her way through the silent house, looking into different rooms. There were many bedrooms and a good number of living rooms and offices. Eventually, she reached a kitchen, to find Ari with a mug of coffee sitting at a table, reports in front of him.

"Good morning, Ziva."

"Ari. Is running an option for me here?"

"Of course."

"Then I'll call Israel when I'm out," she said, knowing, really, that it couldn't be that easy.

"The grounds of this place are massive. You can run, Ziva, but you can't get out."

"Or make any phone calls."

"Exactly."

"We are alone, and we have about twenty-four hours."

* * *

_Sorry it's so short – even though these chapters are meant to be sort of short, this one is really really short. It looked longer on Word._

_Please please please review._


	5. Loyalty

_Disclaimer: I am DPB. Who cares if I'm a little too young, too female, too poor and not nearly talented enough for that to be true? I'm own NCIS. I do. Honest._

_A/N: I have made a pledge to post something every day for the rest of this week, just to see if I can._

_A/N2: This one is for FadeIntoTheBackground,for being a fantastic E-replacement =D, check her out if you read Harry Potter fanfics and she'll soon have an NCIS one up._

* * *

Abby emerged into the bullpen, trails of black mascara dried down her cheeks, hair loose. She couldn't see Tony, but McGee was staring at his computer screen, perched on the end of his seat.

"Timmy?"

It was the first time she'd tried to speak since they'd told her – she'd taken the news in silence, stood up and wrapped her arms around Tony, McGee and Ducky, one by one, and turned back to her stereo to change the music. So her voice came out as a sort of croak.

"Abby?" he said, startled out of his concentration, quickly stopping his computer to give her his full attention.

"I'm still running the bullet and everything, what can I do?"

"There's no more forensics or anything –"

"What. Can. I. Do. McGee?"

He nodded and pulled Tony's chair up next to his own, beckoning her over. She sat down, and leaned into him when he laid his hand around her shoulder. His screen was showing two windows of CCTV footage.

"They're the nearest camera's to G . . . his house, in opposite directions. You watch the left."

"What am I looking for?"

He pulled her in closer, and laid his chin on the top of her head. She understood – they were clutching at straws. But she kept her eyes wide open and didn't allow herself to drift off, after all, this was _Gibbs _they were talking about. With Ducky's estimated time of death, they didn't have too much footage to trawl through.

"Wait, McGee."

He reached out and rewound the video.

"There – look."

Two people walked speedily down the street, closer and closer to the camera. As they drew nearer, their faces were clearly recognisable. Mesmerized, they watched as Ziva and Ari reached his motorbike. She put on her helmet, looking somewhat melancholic. Ari gently turned his head up to the camera, and slowly smiled.  
"Bastard," McGee muttered, and Abby whacked the back of his head.

"Don't swear," she said, and looked at her hand, seeming pleased. "I think I'm going to start doing that."

"Swearing?"

She hit him again.

"Headslapping," she clarified.

_Gibbs leant down and kissed her cheek._

"_Good work, Abs."_

She smiled. Slightly cheered now, at having grasped onto a lead, she headed down to check if she had any results. McGee got started on the BOLO for Ari's motorbike.

-----

Jenny offered Tony a glass of bourbon as he entered her office. He nodded, and she poured it for him, taking another sip from hers after. He sat opposite her, letting some of the liquid scorch down his throat before he spoke.

"Ziva David."

"What do you want to know?"

"Who is she? What's she like? Where are her allegiances? Is she terrorist? Did she kill Gibbs, though I don't think so. Why did she let Ari kill Gibbs?"

Jenny didn't respond until the last drops of her drink slipped down her throat.

"She's a highly skilled Mossad officer. To the best of my knowledge that's where her loyalties lie. I don't think she's a terrorist, but I just received some disturbing information from a contact – Ari Haswari is her half-brother. Her little sister, Talia, died –"

"I know."

"Then you can imagine family might be important to her."

"What about Ari – what do you know of him?"

"Very little. No more than you. All I do comes from Ziva, I think we can say that she's hardly a reliable source," Tony didn't miss the regret that coloured her tone; obviously the friendship between them had been close. "Look, DiNozzo, I wouldn't want to be up against Ziva, or any child of Eli David, are you sure you and Agent McGee won't need any help?"

"I don't need some inexperienced newbie to look after, Director."

She thought about this for a while, then nodded. "I understand your reluctance, Tony, but if you want me to move in a more experienced agent . . .?"

"I don't need someone who thinks they know better either. No offence, Madam Director, but this is still Gibbs' team, and it works best that way."

She sighed. "Yeah, I figured."

He turned to walk out, pausing as he laid his hand on her door.

"You do know, Director, that I'm not bringing either of them in?"

She closed her eyes, and nodded almost imperceptibly. Satisfied, he left.

-----

McGee updated Tony when he came down, just as the phone began to ring. McGee picked up.

"McGee."

"Hi, uhh, I was re-directed from, uhh, is this where, it's about . . ." the woman stopped herself. "I was told to tell you that I think the vehicle you're looking for is at my boss' house."

McGee clicked her onto speaker.

"Go on."

"I had to go up because I left some of my paperwork there, and I noticed some strange stuff, people wearing, like – gas masks? I don't know. And I called the police, and told them about it, and when I mentioned the motorbike they re-directed me here."

She sounded very nervous and rushed out all her words. They managed to get her to tell them her boss' address and the code for the gate.

-----

Jenny watched from the catwalk as they left in the elevator. She knew Gibbs wanted Ari dead, didn't know how he would feel about Ziva. She did know, however, that if it had been any other member of the team who she had let die, he wouldn't show her any mercy or compassion.

"_I should be with them," said Gibbs leaning on the banister at her side._

"They don't need you as much as they think they do, Jethro. You should be proud of them."

"_I am."_

* * *

_Given up apologising for length. It's a story with short chapters._

_Please. Please. Really. Take a few seconds to drop a line. Just an "I liked it" or a "you could improve on . . ." or something._


	6. Betrayal

_Disclaimer: I don't own._

_This will have a sequel, just letting you know._

* * *

Ziva, Ari, Haytham and two other men were making their way to the garage. Ziva and Ari had decided the best time to make their move would be when everyone was setting out to post the letters. They each had a large number, to drive around distributing small piles in every post-box. Ari shot Ziva a meaningful look, she nodded. It would be risky to attack these three men. At least two had guns, which was far too large a gamble when they were the only people in the world who weren't terrorists and knew what was going to happen. They waited as two men climbed into cars and began to start down the long drive. Ari leant down by Haytham's ear, quickly. Alarm bells rang in Ziva's head, prompted by years of training. She didn't like not knowing what was happening, and Ari hadn't mentioned this to her. Before she had time to think beyond just instinct though, Haytham had whipped around, drawing an object from his pocket, and she was looking down the barrel of a gun. Her hand went to her hip as a reflex, but there was nothing there. She turned to Ari and found herself looking down another barrel. Her eyes widened in shock, and she looked him in his eyes, where she saw a flash of regret, but they soon hardened.

"Sorry, Ziva," was all he said, and she understood she'd been getting it wrong the whole time.

She stared a little longer.

"Everything you said to Gibbs, Ari . . . you weren't lying."

He still said nothing. _The shot rang louder than any explosion. She made her way down the stairs, stared at his body. A man she'd barely met, dead. Look into his glassy, unseeing, clear blue eyes. It had happened enough times before, you'd think it wouldn't hurt so much. But he'd laid his life in her hands, and she may as well have killed him herself. She turned to receive comfort from his murderer, her brother. He understood. So did she. It was necessary. _It was necessary, she'd kept telling herself that, it was necessary. And now she knew it wasn't. Now she knew Ari was mad, and that his act had been purely personal. And she had helped this psychopath, this terrorist, this unrecognisable creature before her, with the cold eyes and the harsh mouth, and the gun to her head, helped it to kill a good man. And this thing, if he had been telling the truth about her father, and really, she knew he had, this thing and another one nearly just as bad they were all that was left of his family. Having everything she cared about torn away in a split second left Ziva feeling empty, indifferent, and had it not been for suddenly remembering why she was here, she strongly expected she would have just let Ari kill her then. As it was she remembered ten thousand envelopes full of a newly developed virus, which could pass to millions of people, and she pulled out the knife that was fastened to the small of her back, and jabbed it into the side of Haytham's neck. She tugged it out as he fell, and turned to Ari, who had stepped back but still had a gun trained on her.

"Ari, please don't."

-----

Ari stared at his sister in hatred. Hatred for her, for not just being compliant, for putting him in this position. Hatred for their father, for putting _her _in this position. Hatred at himself, for holding a gun on the last person left in the world that he cared about. The cars, noticing the commotion, began to turn around and drive back to help their boss. Ziva slowly made her way over to Haytham's body.

"Ziva, don't move."

She ignored him. His finger trembled on the trigger. She took the dead man's gun, and started firing at the cars. One shot cracked through a windscreen, instantly killing a driver. The other car turned as quickly as possible. Ari still hadn't moved or made a decision when a different car came zipping around the corner. Recognising the two men in the front, Ari sprinted to his motorcycle and started it, speeding past the NCIS agents and out the front gate that they had left open.

-----

Tony jumped out the driver's side, and McGee climbed in as quickly as possible, turning to pursue the second car. He caught up quickly, two of its wheels had been damaged by bullets, and stepped out. He raised his gun and felt a hand on his shoulder.

"_Relax, McGee," said Gibbs. "Take aim. Now."_

He softly squeezed his finger in, and without the driver, the car span off the road.

-----

Tony understood now why Kate couldn't stab Ari. Those eyes . . . must be a family thing. They seemed to plead with him. Plead for what? Forgiveness? Life? What she said next shocked him.

"Shoot me," and she let the gun in her hand clatter to the ground.

What else could he do? He couldn't let her go – not the person who could've saved Gibbs and didn't. And if not him, it would be Mossad, or someone else from NCIS. He wouldn't put it past Director Shepard. No, no doubt she would kill for Gibbs.

"Do I have a choice?"

She wondered why he didn't just kill her. What else was there for her? She'd been in his position and she knew that her death wouldn't make him feel better, but she also knew letting her live would make him feel worse.

"Not really, Tony. Just promise me you'll get Ari too."

He nodded, and she smiled gently. She was broken, and alone. Her life lay in shreds around her, all the lies revealed, and all she wanted was to believe them again. She couldn't go on with the knowledge of what she'd done, she couldn't go on with the aching emptiness in her.

"Do it now, please."

Against all his logic and training, he closed his eyes when he pulled the trigger.

* * *

_Sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry. Sorry everyone. I should point out in this fic he doesn't know her that well and she let Gibbs die and I'm incredibly sorry. I won't even ask for reviews. Actually, screw that. Drop me a line, tell me what you thought of the story, even if it's just 'why the hell did you make Tony kill Ziva' or ruder variations of that. Also, though I don't object to flames, if you fancy having a reasoned discussion about it, or even just giving me the chance to defend myself, leave a signed review._


End file.
